Post by The Stranger on Jul 26, 2008 17:22:40 GMT -5
Ever since he had glimpsed the Lizard men escape himself and the armies of the realm, a heavy stone sat in the pit of his stomach. 'What if they cross my farm,' he thought, 'surely the devils will burn it. Seven watch over my mother,' he prayed.
He was on his way to the training yard. Ser Dylan had suggested it to him, though he was skeptical of it, for he had never seen or used one before. 'It could be no different than the sparring rings they used at the camps,' he rationalized.
Upon arriving to the yard, he was immediately bumped into by an older man as he rounded the doorway. Upon speaking to the man, he found him to be the spoken of hero of the Battle of Deep Den. Men had rumored many things about him, including that he had killed hundred of men, five with one swing.
Though he was not the large brute Gal had imagined, yet an average man, with piercing blue eyes and a slim stature. He was also very kind, just, and right. Gal was dumbfounded to find that he was not a knight. The world outside the farm had turned to be a very foreign place itself, where men unrightfully take the title of 'Ser', and those who deserve it do not receive it.
They had bid each other goodbye, and Galahad, refreshed by a little inspiration, continued into the yard. A few men who knew him from the battlefield nodded at him as he passed; he had gained some respect amongst the men.
After reading his two tourney swords, he practiced his form and style for a while on a dummy, by himself, before stretching out his muscles. Practicing a few forms and techniques after this, ones learned from Ser Dylan, Galahad continued to sit down on a nearby bench, slightly sweaty. "You fight well," a man said to his side. He was a Westerman.
"Thank you," replied Gal.
"By the looks of it, we're marching as soon as things are in order," the man explained. "This will be the last time we see this, or any yard until the war is over, is my guess," he said, and spit to the side. "Perhaps we should make the best of it. We will need to be our sharpest for those Basilisk men," he said.
"If it is a challenge you propose, I accept," Galahad agreed, lifting his two swords again. This man used a dull flail and shield, something he had never fought against before.
They began with the other man lunging at Gal, refined, yet aggressive. He was no novice, yet he was no mach for Gal. Gal raised his sword to block the mace swing, but the chains wrapped around the sword, as it was yanked from his hand. Shocked, Gal suddenly doubled his efforts, unaware of the threats a flail held. This time dodging the next swing, Gal side stepped and dropped his sword on the man, though it was blocked by the shield. Pushing forwards, Gal caused the man to stagger backwards, and as it was doing so, Gal reached around and planted a side punch into the man's kidney, causing him to double over to the side and grunt.
Pushing off the man, Gal retreated back for his other sword, though the man would not allow it. Again, lunging himself at Gal, Gal barely dodged a downward swing of the flail, and countered with an upwards cut, hitting the bicep of the man and causing him to drop his flail. With both of them lacking one weapon, the fight continued as both tried to reach their own weapon, while preventing the other from getting theirs. Placing himself between the flail and the man, Gal pushed the attack, making the man retreat away from the flail, as he struggled to block Gal's ensuing barrage of attacks. After sneaking in a combination on the man, and making him stagger, Gal grabbed the man's shoulder, and brought his knee up into his gut, knocking the wind out of him, before adding a forceful punch to the man's jaw, knocking him on the ground.
Taking the opportunity, Gal dove for his other sword and managed to grasp it before turning back to the other man, who was rising to his feet, flail in hand, and blood coming from the mouth. He was bending over for air, as he wiped his mouth.
Advancing again, Galahad brought both of his swords up above his right shoulder, faking a downwards cut, causing the man to flinch his shield up, but as Galahad neared, he dropped to the ground, sliding along the dirt on his side, and as he passed the man, he brought his swords to the side, taking out the man's legs. The man fell with a thud, and Gal sprang back up and turned to face his defeated foe.
"You do fight well," the man huffed, holding his injured legs.
Galahad advances towards Grandmaster Swording.
Galahad advances to Expert Hand-to-Hand Combat.
He was on his way to the training yard. Ser Dylan had suggested it to him, though he was skeptical of it, for he had never seen or used one before. 'It could be no different than the sparring rings they used at the camps,' he rationalized.
Upon arriving to the yard, he was immediately bumped into by an older man as he rounded the doorway. Upon speaking to the man, he found him to be the spoken of hero of the Battle of Deep Den. Men had rumored many things about him, including that he had killed hundred of men, five with one swing.
Though he was not the large brute Gal had imagined, yet an average man, with piercing blue eyes and a slim stature. He was also very kind, just, and right. Gal was dumbfounded to find that he was not a knight. The world outside the farm had turned to be a very foreign place itself, where men unrightfully take the title of 'Ser', and those who deserve it do not receive it.
They had bid each other goodbye, and Galahad, refreshed by a little inspiration, continued into the yard. A few men who knew him from the battlefield nodded at him as he passed; he had gained some respect amongst the men.
After reading his two tourney swords, he practiced his form and style for a while on a dummy, by himself, before stretching out his muscles. Practicing a few forms and techniques after this, ones learned from Ser Dylan, Galahad continued to sit down on a nearby bench, slightly sweaty. "You fight well," a man said to his side. He was a Westerman.
"Thank you," replied Gal.
"By the looks of it, we're marching as soon as things are in order," the man explained. "This will be the last time we see this, or any yard until the war is over, is my guess," he said, and spit to the side. "Perhaps we should make the best of it. We will need to be our sharpest for those Basilisk men," he said.
"If it is a challenge you propose, I accept," Galahad agreed, lifting his two swords again. This man used a dull flail and shield, something he had never fought against before.
They began with the other man lunging at Gal, refined, yet aggressive. He was no novice, yet he was no mach for Gal. Gal raised his sword to block the mace swing, but the chains wrapped around the sword, as it was yanked from his hand. Shocked, Gal suddenly doubled his efforts, unaware of the threats a flail held. This time dodging the next swing, Gal side stepped and dropped his sword on the man, though it was blocked by the shield. Pushing forwards, Gal caused the man to stagger backwards, and as it was doing so, Gal reached around and planted a side punch into the man's kidney, causing him to double over to the side and grunt.
Pushing off the man, Gal retreated back for his other sword, though the man would not allow it. Again, lunging himself at Gal, Gal barely dodged a downward swing of the flail, and countered with an upwards cut, hitting the bicep of the man and causing him to drop his flail. With both of them lacking one weapon, the fight continued as both tried to reach their own weapon, while preventing the other from getting theirs. Placing himself between the flail and the man, Gal pushed the attack, making the man retreat away from the flail, as he struggled to block Gal's ensuing barrage of attacks. After sneaking in a combination on the man, and making him stagger, Gal grabbed the man's shoulder, and brought his knee up into his gut, knocking the wind out of him, before adding a forceful punch to the man's jaw, knocking him on the ground.
Taking the opportunity, Gal dove for his other sword and managed to grasp it before turning back to the other man, who was rising to his feet, flail in hand, and blood coming from the mouth. He was bending over for air, as he wiped his mouth.
Advancing again, Galahad brought both of his swords up above his right shoulder, faking a downwards cut, causing the man to flinch his shield up, but as Galahad neared, he dropped to the ground, sliding along the dirt on his side, and as he passed the man, he brought his swords to the side, taking out the man's legs. The man fell with a thud, and Gal sprang back up and turned to face his defeated foe.
"You do fight well," the man huffed, holding his injured legs.
Galahad advances towards Grandmaster Swording.
Galahad advances to Expert Hand-to-Hand Combat.